The old centre of Sant'Andrea occupies the upper part of the hill and is worth an hour of unhurried wandering. The lanes are narrow, paved in stone, and flanked by the tightly packed houses of a town that has been here for a very long time. There are no grand monuments — this is not Matera or Tropea — but the texture of the place is genuine: doorways propped open on summer afternoons, cats on ledges, an elderly couple sitting outside with no particular intention of moving. The few bars and shops that remain open keep hours that suit the residents, not tourists.
At the top of the old town there is a belvedere — a small terrace or lookout point — from which the view opens in two directions simultaneously. To the east the Ionian Sea lies flat and blue below; on a clear day you can see a long way south along the coast. To the west the terrain rises sharply toward the Sila plateau, and in winter the mountains carry snow. It is one of those views that explains very plainly why people have been living on this particular hillside for centuries.